


Karkat Flushed Gamzee Baking

by Broba



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cooking, Food Kink, M/M, Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:37:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broba/pseuds/Broba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I went through a short phase of doing one-shots and this was one of them. Everyone knows Gamzee loves his baked goods, right? And what could be better then having a best friend right there to all feed up on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Karkat Flushed Gamzee Baking

Gamzee skidded across the floor of his kitchen to a storage receptacle where he gathered armfulls of canisters, powders, bags bottles and cartons. The entire hive was pulsating to the sound of Troll Jimi Hendrix blasting into his greatest hits. Gamzee didn't normally go for the classics, but he cooked better when he had something classy to get his bake on to. He casually tossed a handful of flour into a steel bowl and knocked in a few cluckbeast eggs with a practised flick of his knuckle, cracking and emptying the shells in one motion before discarding them in the nearby ablution trap. With a little milk and sugar he was soon kneading a fine light dough into a ball between his fingers, he measured everything by eye but had an uncanny knack for getting the measurements.  
  
He knew he didn't have long to make his preparations. He worked best alone, and if he had neglected the music then he would have been undisturbed but his plan was to get as much done as possible before his hiveguest came complaining about the racket at the horrifyingly early hour. Gamzee had in fact barely slept, he was just too excited. They had gorged on sugary snacks and terrible movies before collapsing to sleep, and he was still over stimulated.  
  
When, inevitably, Karkat was shaken awake by the glorious cacophany that was Troll Jimi Hendrix he emerged from Gamzee's spare recuperacoon, which was in fact a hastily converted large ablution trap, like a nosferatu emerging from the crypt. Rising rigidly from the slime he wiped it from his bloodshot eyes and let out a few exploratory screams just to let off enough rage to be able to find his clothing and make himself roughly presentable without shredding them.  
  
Karkat stomped downstairs clutching his head, from the sounds of it Troll Jimi was entering one of his legendary infinite solos. As he rounded the door he saw Gamzee bent over and fully halfway into his refrigeration cubicle. Gamzee stood and nudged the door closed with his butt, grinning at Karkat. He didn't have makeup on at all, and that took Karkat aback slightly. If anything, Gamzee looked a little freakish without it to him.  
"Get in here motherfucker and sit your ass down, I'm gonna pancake you up so hard you'll not even believe. I got all the best for my motherfuckin' best friend!"  
"I don't believe this already. What fucking TIME is it?" Karkat was furious, but he did sit down. Pancakes?  
"Time ain't nothin' but a number," replied Gamzee gnomically, briskly whisking his batter, "pancakes now and I got the sickest fuckin' cupcake baking for later."  
"You're serious? You can actually cook?"  
"Sure I can, did you even doubt a motherfucker?"  
"I just thought..." Karkat made a vague waving motion, picturing the disorganized chaos that was the majority of Gamzee's hive, "...you didn't have the attention span for shit like that. You realise you have to time things and wait patiently and suchlike?"  
"Oh yeah? Watch this."  
  
Gamzee dipped a ladle into his batter and whipped it up into the air in a high arc. Karkat cried out in surprise, but Gamzee brought the ladle over a searing hot skillet in a swooping motion then dispensed a prefect circle of batter firmly onto the iron without so much as spilling a drop. He snatched up a long metal palette knife and sawed it under the bubbling circle of batter, whipping it over with ease to rest the other side of the forming pancake on the metal for just an instant, before whipping it onto a plate and presenting it to Karkat. The process took a matter of seconds, and Karkat was agog.  
"See? It's not all slow an' boring, you got to be fast if you want to do pancakes right."  
"Shit! That was amazing!"  
"You ain't even tasted it yet," Gamzee flicked a cupboard open with a fingertip and plucked out a shaker of fine-ground sugar, a small pot of fine syrup. Karkat greedily shook out a dusting of sugar over the pancake and added a spiral of syrup, folding it over with his fingertips and gobbling half of it in a mouthful. Even Gamzee was impressed.  
"Oh fuck me," Karkat gushed, "tha's the fuckin' righ' stuff!" He was already working on the other half.  
"You shoulda' said you like the sweet stuff! I never seen anyone take down a pancake so fast."  
Karkat was already snapping his fingers and pointing at his plate, he hadn't had time to finish swallowing yet.  
  
Gamzee prepared another, this time using a wooden spreader to make a paper-thin crepe and flicking the edges into the centre to fold it into a cone, into which he added clotted cream and a spoonful of berries. Karkat demolished it, cream running down his delighted chin messily. Gamzee obliged him by running a fingertip up his chin to catch it, and was surprised when Karkat licked it off without thinking.  
  
Gamzee decided that here was a challenge for his culinary skills. He had to play for time, the stuff he had baking would need to rise properly. He stirred a little vanilla essence into his batter and switched to a shallow pan. He whisked the batter until it was thick with bubbles and ladled out a generous portion, cooking a thick, fluffy pancake. He flicked the pan and carefully upended it- in Gamzee's opinion people who actually tossed pancakes into the air to catch them again in the pan were showoffs who belonged nowhere near a self-respecting kitchen. This time Gamzee applied a compote of berries with a little light custard that he happened to have cooling in the refrigeration cubicle from something his had been experimenting with yesterday. Karkat tucked in with relish, sawing off wedges of it and shovelling them into his mouth greedily. He was enjoying himself so much he nearly lost his breath, he was practically panting. When the plate was clean he leant back and clasped his grubby, sticky fingers to his belly and groaned.  
"Oh Gamzee you have to do this more, I never knew!"  
"Shit, I eat like this every breakfast, you should stay over more."  
"I won't have to. I'm going to put a fucking recuperacoon in the corner there and live here. I'm not even going to move, you can just shovel cakes into me and top me off with syrup now and then. I'm not even fucking kidding, I'm making you my kitchen slave now."  
"Guess that's a fuckin' successful breakfast. So what do you want to-"  
"Fuck! You're not done yet!" Karkat banged his fork on the table, "I need more!"  
"You're gonna get all round! You'll be all blobular and I'ma have to explain why you left here all rollin' down hills and havin' trouble escapin' valleys!"  
"I don't care, I need more. All I've got in my hive is fucking ready-portion super cubic meal polygons, I haven't eaten like this in ever!"  
"Meal polygons! What the fuck you eatin' that shit for?"  
"Well I," Karkat ran his tongue over his upper teeth and hissed with chagrin, "I can't actually cook anything. Like, at all. I'm a disaster, my lusus brought me up to filter small food particles from tide-pools, I never learned!"  
"You, uh," Gamzee was already thinking of a few things he had to hand, "you really want more?"  
Karkat glared at him balefully and gnashed his teeth once sharply, "feed me clown! Feed me _now!_ "  
  
Gamzee charged into battle. More cluckbeast eggs were sacrificed to his mixer, he got out the big one he used only for cakes and special occasions, the mixer which had settings ranging from "light whisk" to "total cosmic disaster blend."  Eggs, a little flour, more of the vanilla, plenty of cinnamon and nutmeg- the key was to mix them, without the touch of cinnamon heat the nutmeg was useless. Then his dark secret- a pinch, the slightest dash, of finely ground coffee. He worked in a little milk and then when he had a fine _crème moulee_ added in cornflour to make a thicker more satisfying blancmange. He allowed the besotted Karkat to taste a spoonful, it was light, but also thick and silky with a heat to it and an underlying dark bitterness at the back of the tongue only evident as an after-taste, the hint of coffee. Karkat was transported, he actually moaned a little. Gamzee dispensed it into a glass bowl he had prepared with a few fingers of cake that he sloshed alcoholic port over. Finally a little whipped cream and fruit on top and he had a serviceable trifle. A little dense and heavy for a breakfast dish but he saw something feral in the way Karkat was watching him work and he thought he had better throw caution to the wind- it might not stop him but it would slow him down for sure.  
  
Karkat grabbed at the bowl and shovelled a heaped dessert spoon of blancmange and milky cream into his mouth with a snorting giggle of delight. He had never seemed happier. He just kept spooning it in to Gamzee's mounting horror, and even the cake base failed to sate him. Karkat now had a bright gooey ring around his mouth, and he was just smearing his hands over his face trying to get it all with his tongue.  
  
Gamzee was by now fighting just to keep up. He tossed over jellied fruits in pastry cups, a mess of meringue, cream and raspberries he broke and crushed together, a cocktail of fruits with wafers. It went on and on. Nothing seemed enough, Karkat was insatiable. Gamzee let out a sigh of relief when his timer went off, and he could take out his baking. Karkat was practically immobile and a mess, but craned his neck expectantly. Gamzee produced a cupcake baking tray with perfect dimples of butterscotch coloured cakes dotted upon it. He had a wonderful treacle sauce he had been working on that he dribbled over a cake experimentally, before handing it over. Karkat lifted it up over his mouth in the manner of someone dispensing an oyster and let a thin skein of treacle dribble over his tongue, pouting and suckling at the cake to get it all. He lapped at it with his tongue and finally tossed the cupcake into his mouth almost as an afterthought.  
  
"Fuck," whispered Gamzee, "I once catered one of Tav's FLARP meetings, and I thought those motherfuckers were a challenge. You're..."  
Karkat stopped, he suddenly realised he had been eating his best friend out of house and home, demanding more and more. He flushed and pressed his hands to his mouth in shame.  
"I'm shorry," he muttered, suppressing a belch.  
"You're fuckin' miraculous! I never even seen anyone handle a brioche like that, and you just annihilated my pavlova!"  
"Yur, that was fuckin' nice," agreed Karkat, "what was the flaky one?"  
"You mean the _chouquettes?_ "  
"I love it when you talk proper dirty," he urped and patted his belly a little sheepishly. It was noticeably rounder.  
Gamzee just popped open a faygo and sat opposite him, smirking. At long last Karkat's demands had subsided, but he could just tell that his friend would be eyeing up the rest of the cakes soon.  
"You look weird," Karkat commented, abruptly.  
"Huh?"  
Karkat waved his hand over his own face.  
"Oh! Makeup. Yeah, well when I get my bake on the greasepaint picks up flour from the air and gets all gnarly, and I can't be havin' any of it on my hands when I work."  
"You really know all this shit don't you? You're a proper actual baking-guy."  
"Fuck yeah! It's like, I can take all this stuff and put it all together, and then it turns into stuff that motherfuckers live off. It's like the biggest miracle!"  
Karkat moaned again and belched, patting his belly. "Fuck, I feel so good."  
"Yeah we should totally make out some."  
"Huh?"  
Gamzee wiggled and eyebrow, and Karkat just snorted.  
  
Gamzee reached behind him for his jug of clotted cream and dipped his fingers in it, smearing a messy white band across his face. He clambered up lithely onto the table and crawled towards Karkat with a grin.  
"Fuck it," whispered Karkat, grabbing at him.  
The rest of that day was occupied by the messiest and most sloppy of makeouts.


End file.
